


Intentions Of Gold

by extraordinary



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternative Universe - Splash Free(-inspired), Implied Nanase Haruka/Tachibana Makoto (OPEN TO INTERPRETATION!), M/M, Natur(al)ist!Haruka, Virgin Sacrifice!Rin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-03 21:09:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20273581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extraordinary/pseuds/extraordinary
Summary: "'A flying carpet'?" Haruka hears himself echo, somewhat belatedly, as he grudgingly sets about covering his groin with the provided piece of cloth. For Rin's benefit, if nothing else. "Why would anyone need something likethat?"Rin makes a wistful little noise before answering: "What are you doing here tonight, Haru...?"





	Intentions Of Gold

**Author's Note:**

> _Hi_. My intention was for this story to read a bit like a Splash Free!-inspired mystery novel, so I'm afraid it will not be a very easy read. Like, _at all_. If I had to describe the genre, I'd probably say it's got a Shinsekai-Yori-meets-Mr.-&-Mrs.-Smith vibe. Think virgin sacrifices à la Spykids...?
> 
> PLEASE NOTE: **Haruka is only 17-years-old at the start of this chapter and it's implied he's already been sexually active within his age group for a while.** I currently don't have any plans to include anything _explicit_, b-but just in case: if I do end up including anything more overt than an off-handed implication or two, the focus will always lie solely on the emotional & cultural aspects of the matter. I realise this is a very sensitive subject and I promise to treat it as such. 
> 
> That said, while I _do_ have vague plans to add some more Relationship Tags in the future **[Nanase Haruka/Matsuoka Rin] will remain the ultimate endgame in this 'verse** (& the exact nature of Haruka's other relationships will most likely be left open to interpretation). Just, uh, so you know. 😰
> 
> **FURTHER WARNINGS/ENTICEMENTS:** #human sacrifice (**!!!**), #counterculture, #polyamory-as-the-norm, #social nudity, #<strike>super</strike>naturalism #teen pregnancy, #(non-sexual) child abuse, #violence, #character death, #discussions of mortality, #gratuitous Disney references, #long-haired!Haruka & #buckets-of-angst! (/ω＼)
> 
> ♡♥ P.S. I drew a lot of inspiration from Pleocene's [[1000n.]](https://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=67773444) (originally in [[LOVE ARAB!]](https://www.suruga-ya.jp/product/detail/ZHOTI141210)), Hana's [[Bewitch You]](https://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=55574810), Croceca's [[砂漠の王と千年奇譚]](https://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=65227492) (= still available on [Toranoana](http://www.toranoana.jp/mailorder/article/04/0030/57/62/040030576233.html)!) & [[Divine Blue]](https://www.suruga-ya.jp/product/detail/ZHOMI182803), and both Winny ([[1](https://twitter.com/winny7tw/status/942987837208633345)], [[2]](https://twitter.com/winny7tw/status/942987837208633345) & [[3]](https://twitter.com/winny7tw/status/621141045141733377)) & Carocchi's ([[1]](https://twitter.com/carocchi_/status/1033724439509327872)) long haired!Haruka artworks. All of which I highly recommend. ♥♡

**Cycle 152: Moon of the Dancing Grasses, 31st Sundown**

For all of the Blue Dew — which, Makoto's favourite uncle had proudly informed him (along with practically all of the other inebriated Dancers within earshot), is nothing short of _flammable_ — sloshing about uneasily in his stomach, Haruka's aim remains surprisingly steady and true. Perhaps The Spirits are keeping watch over him tonight, after all.

Because:

"_Seriously?!_" Rin criticises. As good as instantly. And right over the agitated shuffling of the Night Guard, to boot. "Yet another _'Conus Virgo'_...?"

Haruka swallows a rather unkind retort. Instead, he calls out: "Just lower the ladder, Rin."

True to form, of course, Rin merely digs his heels in. "If you're going to insist on regularly aiming things at my head, _brother_," He begins. Rather loudly. And with particularly vehement emphasis on Haruka's enforced designation, as well. "Can't you at least toss up something a little less offensive once in a while? A nice, smooth little cowrie would make a much more fitting projectile. Especially tonight, of all nights."

Unfortunately, Haruka's all out of shells (and the spuming waves he's still treading aren't getting any _warmer_, either). It's time for a slightly different approach, then.

"Please?"

It actually _works_, too.

With a long-suffering sigh, Rin obligingly kicks an armful of rope and bamboo over the edge of The Vessel's Eastern Sundeck. "You're naked," He greets-slash-observes, in a tone just about as dry as the inside of Haruka's mouth is rapidly beginning to feel, once his uninvited guest has successfully managed to hoist himself up onto the wooden platform. "_Again_."

Feigning a good deal more forbearance than he currently possesses, Haruka simply locks his gaze onto Rin's impeccably painted toenails. The movement dislodges a stubborn little drop of seawater from the very tip of his nose. And another — slightly bigger one, at that — from the bottom of his chin. When they've both hit the deck with an inaudible finality, he finally finds himself capable of saying: "Nagisa said he'd smuggle something in for me to wear."

Rin doesn't comment on Haruka's perfunctory — and sincerely inconsistent, as well — display of propriety. Nor does he acknowledge its stark contrast with such a precariously subversive admission. "_Ai_," He half-summons, half-scolds, instead. "You're not actually planning on allowing this fish-brained idiot to enter The Floating Temple looking like that, are you...? It's a miracle he isn't swaying on his feet yet. He's clearly _soaked_. And dripping, too."

Predictably, though, the ever-present shadow at Rin's heels refuses to be as easily dislodged as the water from Haruka's skin. "R-Rin-sama," He stutters, rather, even as he hastily rearranges his stance into a regretful bow. "With all due respect, I'm afraid I cannot possibly leave you and Haruka-dono unattended for such a —"

"— _'Unattended'_?" Rin cuts in sharply enough to draw Haruka's gaze all the way up to the brightly polished hilt of the curved dagger — enclosed in an elaborately decorated sheath and tucked securely into the folds of a pitch-black sash — at his waist. It's a purely ornamental piece, though. Haruka knows this far better than he'd like to, in fact. Its latest owner will never find himself in a position to wield it. Not even on _himself_. "_'Unsupervised'_ is more like it, isn't it? There's only ninety-three days left, Ai. I haven't got time for The High Priestess' nasty little games." He pauses, there, before sullenly adding: "Besides, Haru'd never lay a finger on me. He's hardly suicidal."

Much to his credit, the youngest member of The Vessel's Escort doesn't even attempt to deny any of it.

Nor does he move.

Haruka decides to take pity on both of them. "There isn't a conch of my skin The Spirits haven't already seen by now, Rin," He points out. Faux-helpfully. And as provocatively as he can manage in the face of Rin's uncharacteristically overt agitation, too. "And I wouldn't begrudge someone like you the occasional —"

** _Whump._ **

A face full of Rin's weighty, exquisitely embroidered cloak effortlessly cuts Haruka off mid-sentence.

And then: "Let's go find that magic carpet of yours, Aladdin."

* * *

**Cycle 135: Moon of the Passing Clouds, 30th Sunrise**

Kaiyose bears The High Priestesses' all-too familiar gaze as wordlessly as she had borne the frail, puffy-faced little babe currently seeking shelter — and finding very little of it, no doubt — in the crook of her right arm. Sweat has effectively plastered her fringe to her forehead. And the thin, undyed fabric of her nightgown stubbornly clings to her body like a second skin.

Outside, The Spirits' celebration continues on unabated. Like an omen.

"His name shall be _'Haruka'_," The High Priestess seemingly appears to decide out of nowhere, then, even as she leans in to press an utter paradox of a kiss down over the centre of Kaiyose's furrowing brows. The sleeping newborn, however, remains pointedly untouched. He _is_ still his father's son (just as much as he is Kaiyose's), after all. "It is certainly a name befitting of Iwatobi's thirtieth Vessel, is it not? The Spirits already seem to be rather fond of him, in any case."

Haruka...

Distant.

Far-off.

Remote.

No.

No.

_No_.

"Have I not been punished enough yet, Hyoukichi-sama?" Kaiyose breaks her silence, at last. In an unsurprisingly hoarse little whisper. And fully in spite of the knowledge that this is yet another battle she cannot possibly hope to win, as well. "Won't you consider letting me call him _'Utei'_...? In honour of the rainfall The Spirits have so generously blessed us with this morning."

The High Priestess isn't so easily fooled, of course. "Along with Namizou-kun's tempest of a mother, I presume," She hazards. Quite correctly, so. "No, I will not consider it. In fact: I am of a mind to forbid it."

Kaiyose swallows.

Pretends to study the light dusting of hair atop her son's tiny little head. Just for a moment.

And says: "She is twice the woman you will ever — "

The vehemence of the inevitable slap momentarily drowns out the incessant noise of the rain. And the rest of Kaiyose's protest immediately twists and tightens itself into an unintelligible little sound. For the very first time since her labour had begun, Kaiyose is glad that Namizou-san had not been allowed to follow her and the midwives into The Floating Temple last night.

"You would do well not to get attached to this accidental little runt, Kai-chan," The High Priestess rigidly persists (as if Chidori-san hadn't just reappeared with a fresh pile of towels, a bucket full of rainwater, and an enviably blank expression on her face). The silver set of bangles around her pale wrist catches the low, flickering light of the sole oil lamp in the room as she draws contradictorily gentle shapes into the skin of Kaiyose's smarting cheek with a neatly painted fingernail. Like an unspoken — and far more _potent_, at that — warning. "He is not yours to keep. A dozen Cycles' worth of atonement is a far better outcome than you deserve, besides. The Spirits and I have been extremely lenient with you so far."

"I... I understand, Hyoukichi-sama."

In Kaiyose's one-armed embrace, Haruka unsuspectingly dozes on.

* * *

**Cycle 152: Moon of the Dancing Grasses, 31st Sunset**

"Who's Aladdin supposed to be, then?" Haruka can't quite help but wonder — _out loud_, this time — on his way towards the wooden chest at the foot of The Vessel's appallingly opulent bed. Even if he only does so in a futile attempt to distract himself from the telltale clink of a padlock snapping into place around Rin's soldered anklet, that is. "Was he raised by apes, too...?"

From his customary perch at the far end of the divan, all the way on the opposite side of the candlelit room, Rin expertly lobs the key to his freedom into the waiting mouth of the eel-shaped ceramic at the base of Ai's current station. A good kelp or two away from him, even. "That's just Tarzan," He impassively informs Haruka's back over the resulting clatter, then, as if he isn't already cataloguing each of the fresh bruises and hickeys littering its expanse. "Aladdin did have a pet monkey, though. And a flying carpet."

Meanwhile, Haruka wastes no further time in retrieving the intricately wrapped bundle — chock-full of illicit treasure — Nagisa had left for him to find underneath a stack of unused quilts. It holds a cotton loincloth, a tasselled shawl (in an inky colour so deep it nearly rivals the shade of Rin's sash and cloak), a pair of complementary Companion's anklets (each bearing four rows of tiny little scallops and clams, not unlike Nagisa's own prized set), a beaded veil (with a scale-like pattern embroidered into every last conch of its sheer fabric), a small hand drum, a comb made out of tortoiseshell, and a set of decorative hairpins.

Exactly as requested.

Down to the very last item, too.

"_'A flying carpet'_?" Haruka hears himself echo, somewhat belatedly, as he grudgingly sets about covering his groin with the provided piece of cloth. For Rin's benefit, if nothing else. "Why would anyone need something like _that_?"

Rin makes a wistful little noise before answering: "What are you doing here tonight, Haru...?"

Successfully quelling the urge to turn around and meet Rin's — nigh-palpable, by now — gaze without explicitly having been invited to do so, Haruka wordlessly rests the wired edge of the veil down over the bridge of his nose and fastens it behind his ears. Next, he wraps the shawl around his hips and ties its tapered ends together in a neat little bow. On his _left_ side. In the buoyant, openly baiting manner of the handful of Unmatched Dancers he'd left behind on the shoreline.

It feels a little bit like donning an echo of something he's already lost, though.

Make-believe, at best.

Just like Rin's_ 'Aladdin'_.

Either way, once Haruka's reassembled modesty has been reasonably secured, he carefully slips on the delicate little anklets and slides both of the hairpins into the messy topknot Makoto had insisted on fashioning for him earlier.

"[_'Make way for Prince Ali'_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aEryAoLfnAA)," Rin ultimately breaks the silence, in an oddly sing-song manner (as he is often wont to do), just as an anticipatory shiver races its way down Haruka's spine. "Too bad we can't just trap The High Priestess inside an oil lamp, right?" A mere heartbeat later, he suddenly adds: "It suits you."

Haruka chooses to simply ignore all of _that_, too.

Instead, he solemnly announces: "I'm ready." And then he steels himself for the inevitable.

* * *

**Cycle 147: Moon of the Reflected Lanterns, 26th Sunrise**

"_Haruka_...?"

Haruka's outstretched hand falters — shamefully noticeably, at that — on its path towards the unlit torch waiting for him at the very top of the granite shelving near the front door. His rapidly rising unease is a near-tangible thing in the dimly lit hallway, steadily spilling out across the aged floorboards beneath his feet just like The Mist silently envelops the defenceless island settlement of Iwatobi every single Cycle: incessant, inevitable, and just as inescapable.

Inside a pair of ceramic jars on a much lower shelf, his father's prized crickets blithely continue singing their equally persistent song. With bated breath, Haruka makes certain to keep his eyes locked on their cylindrical little containers as he fights to regain his composure. "Did I wake you up?" He forces himself to ask, as kindly as he can manage, even though he doesn't particularly care to know the answer. "Rin already left to greet Nao-senpai's Last Dawn, I think. His side of the bed was cold when I woke up." After a moment's deliberation, he reluctantly adds: "I'll make sure to keep him out of trouble at The Selection. The High Priestess won't even know he's there, I promise."

For a long moment, his mother's silence is even louder than the crickets' racket.

And then, at last:

"You're underestimating your brother's tenacity, little bird."

* * *

**Cycle 152: Moon of the Dancing Grasses, 31st Sunset**

Thankfully, Ai keeps his chin tucked throughout the dreaded — and infuriatingly _excessive_, to boot — process of tethering Haruka's proffered ankle to one of the nearby anchoring points, safely depositing the key into the eel's gaping mouth, and finishing the entire routine up by bodily opening one of the massive folding screens near the divan (in order to provide The Vessel and his illicit guest with a poor imitation of privacy).

For all that, though, the understandably jittery Night Guard does break protocol long enough to accept the fleeting kiss Haruka presses into the inside of his wrist on an impulse. Along with Rin's discarded cloak and the little hand drum Haruka'd very nearly forgotten about. "I'll bring this to Rin-sama for you, Haruka-dono," He agrees, satisfyingly breathlessly, as he bashfully sneaks a peek at Haruka's face. "You can count on me to keep an eye out for The High Priestess' entourage, too."

Haruka attempts a smile. "Thank you, Ai."

As expected, Ai immediately lowers his gaze back down to the colourful mosaic at their bare feet.

Bows (a little jerkily).

And hurriedly scampers off to fulfil his task.

Unfortunately, though, Ai's exalted _'Rin-sama'_ isn't feeling anywhere near as amenable. "What am I supposed to do with _this_, exactly...?" He half-derides, half-demands, the very second his minder's lithe form disappears from sight. "You can't seriously expect me to make myself complicit in yet another one of your — "

" — _Can't I_, Rin?" Haruka challenges, there, because Rin's scorching tone seems to have effortlessly set the remnants of the Blue Dew in his system ablaze. "What else were you waiting for out on the Eastern Sundeck, then?"

Not unlike The Great Tides, Rin's temper ebbs as surely as it'd surged. "You're wasting your time out here, Haru," He presses, nevertheless, right where he knows it'll hurt Haruka the most. Ever-so-gently. And with a level of precision even Nao-senpai would've found enviable, if he hadn't already met the very fate now setting its sights on Rin. "Can't you see you're only making everything even harder than it already is?" An unsteady breath later, he softly adds: "I'm not going to be around to save your scrawny ass for much longer, y'know..."

Haruka does know.

He _knows_.

And yet: "Play the drum, Rin."

Against all of the odds, Rin obliges him. At once, even. And although The High Priestess and her ilk must've gone to great lengths to ensure The Vessel's — and, by proxy, The Spirits' — absolute ignorance in these so-called Mortal Matters, he somehow manages to set a commendable rhythm for Haruka's hips to begin swaying to.

Slow.

Sedate.

_Sensual_.

Emboldened by the liquid fire coursing through his veins, Haruka chances a glance at Rin's unveiled face. Acknowledges — as well as _returns_ — the equally unconcealed longing he finds there. And promptly removes the pair of hairpins Nagisa'd so unstintingly provided him with from the utter tangle of Makoto's latest handiwork.

"You're taking rather a lot of liberties tonight, aren't you?" Rin notes, then, with a distinct gulp. Slightly parted lips. And narrowing, kohl-rimmed eyes. "I hope you realise not even The High Priestess' creepy little crush on your mother will keep her from turning you into fish-fare if she notices you've ditched The Dances. For the second year running."

Even so, Haruka merely continues to follow the sensuous beat of Rin's drum: absent-mindedly moving his arms as if they were the extended wings of a courting seabird (little more than a singular motion, continuously travelling from the very tips of the fingers of one hand to the other and back again), deliberately catching the candlelight with the bejewelled ends of the little hairpins he's keeping clenched between the pads of his thumb and index finger as he does so, and all the while allowing gravity to steadily guide his undulating hips downwards.

Down, down, _down_...

Lower. And lower, still.

Right into a deep, sinuous crouch.

"I've been practising," He finds himself telling an utterly entranced Rin, right there, mere moments away from freedom. "For you."

And then the spell breaks.

**Author's Note:**

> If you've somehow managed to make it this far, **THANK YOU!!!!** so much for giving this 100% self-indulgent drivel of mine a chance. Do consider leaving me a comment if you've found something to enjoy about this 'verse. Or just come talk to me about the fabulous doujinshi & artwork I recommended...!!
> 
> **SOME-MORE-NOTES-NOBODY-EVER-ASKED-FOR:**  
🐚 Rin's latest Conus Virgo (=> Virgin Cone 😆) [[looks like this]](https://twitter.com/rintervention/status/1164469299303632896).  
🐚 Haruka's island!Iwatobi shares quite a few similarities with Okinoshima, but in my imagination it's actually located in roughly the same area as real-life Iwami instead of in Fukuoka.  
🐚 Blue Dew is based on Hanazake (60%, yikes!), and "soaked" just happens to be a convenient synonym for "drunk".  
🐚 A Cycle is the Iwatobian name for a year, and their Moons work just like our months.  
🐚 The title was taken from Echos' [[Gold]](https://genius.com/Echos-gold-lyrics).  
🐚 I took the liberty to adjust some of the characters' ages as I saw fit: Nao and Natsuya have been aged up by roughly four years & Ren and Ran are about a year older than usual, as well.   
🐚 I'm really, really, _really_ very sorry about what I did to Nao.
> 
> Oh.
> 
> And, uhm, _no_, Haruka & Rin aren't actually related by blood (and they certainly don't consider each other siblings!). It'll make sense eventually, I promise.


End file.
